Man Eaters (Book 2): The Horde Page 16

  “Will do, ma’am. Thank you for stoppin’ by and takin’ care of these fuckers.” Henry glanced over at the Fuchs. “Mighty nice ride you got there.”

  “It gets us around.”

  Henry cocked his head. “I’m bettin’ it does. Thank you again, ma’am.”

  “Our pleasure.”

  Back in the Fuchs, Dallas headed toward Angola. “Does anybody else think that was weird? I’m surprised they didn’t join us.”

  “I’d imagine being a prisoner in Angola would make one think twice about making it home.”

  “Home,” Roper murmured. “God, I miss California.”

  Dallas carefully maneuvered around an overturned semi. “That’s not all you miss. You miss the horses.”

  Roper looked wistfully out the window. “More than you know. I miss riding. I miss smelling them. I just miss so much about them.”

  Dallas reached across the space and squeezed her hand. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get back there someday.”

  Roper nodded. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

  ****

  “Where is he?” Butcher backed Einstein into a corner the second he stepped foot on The Survivor.

  Einstein ducked under her arm and pulled the skiff up to the boat. “Butcher—”

  “You better start talking, kid. Where. Is. He?” Her words were clipped and cold.

  Einstein hefted the bags to her, only barely ready to face her wrath. “I think you need to be calm when—”

  “What happened? Is he okay? Say something, god damn it!”

  “When I left, he was fine. I didn’t want to leave, I swear, but you know how he is. He insisted.”

  Butcher opened her mouth, then closed it, then shook her head. The veins in her forehead protruded and he could see her gritting her teeth. “I’m sure you didn’t, buddy, but you know how I feel about splitting up.” Butcher stopped as soon as she said it. “Oh. I see.” Taking a deep, deep breath, holding it in her lungs, then exhaling, she struggled to calm herself. “Okay. Okay. But nothing happened, right? He was okay when you saw him last.”

  Nod. Nod. Nod.

  Butcher continued to calm herself. “Okay. Okay. I imagine he has a plan. Exactly what did he tell you?”

  Einstein repeated, verbatim, their last conversation and ended with, “I wanted to stay.”

  Butcher hugged him. “I know you did. That god damn pig-headed lover of mine has something up his sleeve.”

  Einstein pointed to the bags. “Actually, he has something in those bags.”

  The moment she opened the first one, she got choked up. Inside she found antibiotics, syringes, scalpels, gauze, painkillers, and more. “Oh Luke…”

  “He loves you enough to risk it all, Butcher. I’m pretty sure this is his way of saying he’s all in where a baby is concerned.” Einstein watched as Butcher’s face fell. “I knew a long time ago. You haven’t really been yourself. So…what are we going to do?”

  Mussing up his hair, Butcher raised the binoculars to her eyes and stared at the dark and shadowy deck of the ship. “We wait. If he’s not back within the hour, we’re going after him. In the meantime, tell me about the ship. Tell me everything.”

  “I listened in on two guys playing chess.” Unfolding his paper, he struggled to read it in the moonlight. “Can’t read in this light.”

  Butcher turned. “You got something?”

  “Oh yeah. More than something. Let me go below and transcribe it before I forget.”

  “Go.”

  When Einstein left her, Butcher returned her gaze to the Japanese ship. “What are you up to, Luke?” Her right hand reached down to rest on her belly. She’d never loved a man enough to carry his child. She’d had two abortions when she was younger and less cautious. Multiple men had wanted more from her when she was in the service, but she had no interest in any long-term relationships.

  The guys in her platoon really had called her Tef, short for Teflon, because nothing stuck to her. She got the nickname Butcher when she transferred to the Medical Unit. Both names suited her, but she preferred Butcher.

  She was called Butcher after she cut into some soldier using a knife as dull as a butter knife. She saved his life but the scar was ugly as sin. After that, people called her The Butcher. Later on, they dropped the The and just called her Butcher.

  She’d saved a lot of soldiers’ lives in the war and made many lifelong friends. Friends could stay, but lovers, not so much. She was a love-them-and-leave-them kind of woman.

  Until now.

  She and Luke had met eight months ago and had an immediate connection. She’d never felt so comfortable, so much herself, around any man before. He seemed to simply accept her and all her idiosyncrasies, never judging, never asking for more than she could or wanted to give.

  She adored him—much to her chagrin. She didn’t want to care about anyone. Once the outbreak spread and she saw her friends and family die, she was determined not to get close to anyone. Tef seemed a more fitting sobriquet than Butcher nowadays because these were not the kind of times when attachments worked in one’s favor.

  Then she met Dallas and her group. Even then, she fought her own feelings, trying not to give a damn, but falling under their spell. She adored Dallas, loved Roper, and treated Einstein like the little brother she once had. She would die for them if she had to. They were her family now, and she would protect them at all costs.

  She wished she could protect Luke right now. “Come on, Lucas Scott, where are you?”

  Hearing footsteps, she turned to find Einstein. “Got it.”

  She nodded, glad for the distraction. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Well, I found a channel where a Brit and a German were playing chess, so the conversation alternates from chess to what happened today.”

  “Uh huh.” Butcher was only half listening as she stared at the ship.

  “The Brit laughingly said how foolish it had been for the Japanese to send their men out, but they heard from a Brit today who said it was much warmer in the Pacific and he was pissed he didn’t get to go. The German guy agreed and said he was…surprised, I think. His accent was pretty thick. Anyway, I guess he was surprised the Japanese hadn’t pulled out sooner. I guess other nations pulled their guys when some new war broke out in Serbia or Syria or someplace. I only caught the S.”

  “So he admitted the crews in most of the ships are minimal.”

  Einstein shrugged. “No, he said it was a rumor, but Luke and I can confirm that rumor on the Japanese ship, for sure. It was like a ghost ship. We ran into only one guy. One guy, Butcher.”

  “Really? One guy?”

  “Yeah. We killed him.”

  “I see. Anything else?”

  Einstein consulted his notes. “Yeah. Here’s the interesting part. The Brit was talking about missing his family and how he hoped the U.N. would hurry up and allow the Chinese to test their bioweapon.”

  Butcher slowly turned. “What kind of bioweapon?”

  He shrugged. “They didn’t go into it, but both men said they were looking forward to this being over and hoped the Chinese had created a weapon that would finally work.”

  “They must have meant—” Before she could finish, a huge explosion rocked them off their feet. “Holy sh—” More explosions filled the night air as Butcher rose to her feet and looked through her binoculars. `”Oh. My. God.”

  Einstein rose to his knees and looked over the railing at the orange balls of flame shooting straight up from the Japanese ship.

  More explosions ensued, and by this time, the waves began slapping against the sides of The Survivor, rocking it back and forth.

  “What’s going on?” Someone asked as everyone filed out onto the deck. Murmurs of conjecture filed the air.

  The reply was a final explosion and a loud groaning sound as the ship began breaking apart. People whispered in hushed tones as they watched the orange flaming vessel slowly list to one side.

  Butcher watched it all through
her binoculars, muttering, “Oh Luke, what have you done?”

  “He blew it to smithereens,” Einstein answered softly. “I can’t believe he did that. Why would he do that?”

  Butcher knew why: he was sending a message to the global guardians that the Americans weren’t out of the race just yet. He was letting them know they had underestimated the fortitude of the American people. In short, he was taking the game to them to see where the rest of the world stood. “Okay everyone, everything is okay. Please go back to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow. We’ll debrief what that was all about in the morning.”

  When everyone went below, Butcher reached for Einstein’s hand. They stood there like that for a long time, just staring at the sinking ship.

  “You think he made it off the ship?” Einstein asked.

  Butcher kept her eyes on the water between them and the listing ship. “He sure as shit better have.”

  ****

  With thirty miles to go to Angola, Dallas’s group came to a roadblock made with two lines of cars and cinder blocks that stretched from one embankment to another, effectively blocking the road.

  Stopping a hundred yards before it, Dallas asked Roper for her thoughts.

  “We could detour around it—but we’re much safer staying away from towns—or we could go right through it and hope the bus makes it without too much damage.”

  “Collateral damage.” Ferdie offered from the back. “We could also leave the bus here and see what they want.”

  “They’ll want the Fuchs.”

  “And maybe the women.” This came from a woman named Jamie, who came to them just before they shoved off. Only under the cover of darkness did this woman feel comfortable enough to finally admit who and what she was.

  Roper leaned into the back. “Why would you say that?”

  “Besides food and weapons, what men are eventually going to want and need is women. If we are to continue on, reproduction is mandatory. Who knows how long those other countries plan on containing us?”

  Roper nodded. “Where you from, Jamie?”

  “Santa Cruz, California. I am…was…a professor of gender studies at the university there. Trust me. When a society collapses and there is no one to keep the men tame, they will resort to their most primal state. They will start seeing women as trophies, as something to be hunted. Their innate brutishness will emerge and they will feel the fear of extinction. This fear will drive them to enslave women once more. This does not bode well for women, especially since the majority here now are not interested in the big salami.”

  “She’s got a point,” Roper said to Dallas. “I’d never thought of it that way, but we’re really at risk.”

  “Well, whatever the reason, putting up a road block is a desperate and overtly hostile move that gives away their intentions.” Turning the Fuchs off, Dallas unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to address the group.

  “I’m not inclined to go around. The longer we are on the road, the more dangerous it is for those in the bus. So, here are my thoughts. Feel free to chime in if you have an opinion.” Dallas pointed to the middle of the roadblock. “I think if we plow through that line and take out everyone we can, we could get to the other side and finish off anyone still standing. Then we can assist the bus in getting through.”

  “You don’t want to give diplomacy a try?” Ferdie asked.

  Dallas shook her head. “That would merely give them a hostage, and we can’t afford that. No, we need to hit them hard and fast. Churchill, you take the turret. Ferdie, you and Hole take the portcullis. Jamie, you take the back of the Beast and let the guys know if there are any issues behind us. Everyone shoot sparingly but well.” To Roper she said, “Would you tell Zoe what the plan is? Make sure they watch their flank. If they get into trouble, tell Zoe to come through the roadblock hole we create and not to stop. Be sure Fletcher is ready.” Dallas felt a line of sweat trickle down her back. “We have to keep that bus full of people safe.”

  Roper grabbed her rifle. “No heroes, okay?” Then she jumped out and ran back to the bus.

  “Just seems a shame to have to kill other survivors,” Jamie said softly. “But when you’re in a Lord of the Flies scenario, man’s baseness rises to the top like soured milk. They want what we have and will do whatever they can to get it.”

  Dallas checked her ammo as Churchill waited at the bottom of the turret ladder. “Which is why we will do whatever we have to do to keep it.” Dallas counted eight men posted in front of the roadblock. “They’re obviously not afraid of a horde since there are at least eight well-armed men waiting near the blockade.”

  “Maybe they already cleared them out.”

  “Maybe.”

  “We can take out eight guys, no problem.”

  Dallas shook her head. “There’s only eight you can see. We’re going to have to be ready for anything. Assume there are sixteen more behind them.”

  Jamie peered through the small window. “No zombies anywhere. Given that there are so few vehicles on the road these days, I’d guess they knew we were coming.”

  Dallas and Churchill exchanged glances. “She’s right. They must have a lookout post somewhere.”

  “I got us covered,” Churchill said, climbing up the ladder. “Just say the word.”

  “What does that mean to us?” Jamie asked.

  Before Dallas could answer, Roper hopped back into the cab. “They’re ready.”

  “All right everyone, hold tight.” Shoving the Fuchs into first gear, Dallas laid on the pedal.

  The moment the Fuchs sliced through the barricade, Dallas had to slam on the brakes to avoid crashing into a huge steamroller parked twenty yards from the barricade. The Fuchs fishtailed and jostled everyone around, but Dallas managed to miss the steamroller by a few feet.

  “Holy shit!” someone shouted.

  As she started backing up, she looked out the side view mirrors just as a dump truck pulled in behind her, blocking off the hole she’d just created, hemming her in and keeping the bus on the outside. “Damn it! Fire away, Churchill!”

  Not a shot was fired.

  “Churchill?”

  “Oh fuck,” Churchill cursed, coming down the ladder and locking the hatch. “There’s no one to shoot at. They’re going after the bus in a military vehicle of some sort.”

  Dallas took off up the ladder and watched helplessly as a second vehicle making its way for the bus joined the eight men. “Churchill, cover us.”

  “Cover you? Are you insane?”

  “Yeah. Roper, Ferdie, and I are going to defend that bus.”

  By the time the three left the Fuchs, several of the hostiles lay on the ground, victims of arrows or bolts from Fletcher and Hunter.

  This did nothing to stop the fifteen or sixteen men and women rushing from the first transport toward the bus screaming like banshees and waving weapons in the air.

  Roper knelt down and took aim to wipe out one from the left hand side, but she never got a round off. Three women piled out of a van wedged in the roadblock wielding baseball bats and screaming like wild creatures.

  The first woman swung her bat and knocked Roper’s rifle from her hands. Before the woman could swing a second time, Roper jammed a forearm into her throat and shoved her away, the bat clattering to the dirty street below. As Roper reached for her battered rifle, a second woman wielding a tire iron screeched while running toward her, whipping the weapon back and forth as she made her way toward Roper.

  Torn between letting the first woman go and reaching for her rifle, Roper slammed her fist into the first woman’s face, her nose making a cracking sound like a walnut beneath the tire of a car.

  Before Roper could get to her rifle, Dallas shot the second woman through the back of the head, but not before a third woman brought a meat cleaver down on Dallas’s forearm, cutting through her shirt and slicing into her flesh. Blood spurt out of the gash, making Dallas drop the rifle so she could slam her hand down on the seven-inch gash pouring blood into the f
abric of her shirtsleeve. “God damn it… son of a bitch!”

  The woman raised her butcher knife to deal a death blow to Dallas, but Ferdie popped the knife-wielder in the face with his gun, whipped it around, and then shot a fourth woman making her way out of the van, blowing off the left side of her face.

  She hit the dusty road with her screams still caught in her throat.

  “Motherfucker!” Ferdie yelled, shooting all four women again just to make sure they were truly dead.

  All the while, the hostiles closed in on the bus, taking shots at Fletcher and Hunter, who were pulling and shooting arrows and bolts like two machines, taking out nearly every target they shot at: targets who were shooting only at the men in their group.

  That was when Dallas realized how right Jamie had been. These people didn’t want the Fuchs. They wanted their women, and the man nearest them was taking pot shots at Hunter.

  Pulling the butcher knife from the hand of the dead woman, Dallas cried out before leaping over the dead women and cleaving a guy’s head in two. He dropped like a rock.

  “You okay?” She asked Roper, who took off her belt and wound it around Dallas’ upper arm.

  “Better than you.” Tightening the belt, Roper looked into Dallas’s pale face and ordered her to get back in the Fuchs. “You’re out. Send Churchill.”

  Dallas shook her head. “I’m fine. I—”

  “It wasn’t a suggestion. Go. You’re out. Get Jamie to patch you up. This is really deep.” Roper leveled her gaze at Dallas. “Now.”

  Looking down at her bloody arm, Dallas nodded. “Ferdie, get that dump truck out of the way!”

  Ferdie nodded and started for the truck, fighting off two hostiles along the way.

  Roper climbed onto the roof of one of the cars and took aim. She killed two outlaws with three shots. Lowering her gun, she knew they wouldn’t be able to keep the marauders off before one of their people was dragged off it or worse.

  The bus suddenly lurched backward as Zoe threw the yellow vehicle into a hard reverse. She wasn’t going to stand still and let these hoodlums take her ride.